


Pieces of Christmas

by PortalPanda



Series: Pieces [3]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, chelley - Freeform, have an old fic I’ve been meaning to post here for years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortalPanda/pseuds/PortalPanda
Summary: Wheatley’s first Christmas with Chell. Chelley Christmas fluff set in the Pieces universe. Read Pieces first!
Relationships: Chell/Wheatley (Portal)
Series: Pieces [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803061
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old Christmas fic which I started for Pieces back in 2015. I asked readers to send me Christmas prompts, and each year I would write stories for four of them which I would add to this story on Christmas Eve. This fic was updated from 2015 to 2017. I hope that one day I might be able to update it again; but for now, here are the original chapters.

Wheatley was deathly afraid of snow. 

The first time he saw it he plunged into a fit of hysterics, totally convinced that She had found a way to make it  _ rain _ conversion gel and kill everyone on earth. Thankfully Chell was there in a matter of seconds to calm him down and tell him that, no, it wasn't Her at all, it wasn't gel, it was snow. Frozen water.

That sent him into another for of hysterics for a completely different reason.

"Why does water have to fall from the sky all the time?" Wheatley cried at the ceiling, "I thought rain was bad enough, but no! Now there's a new form of sky water and it comes in a  _ solid _ form! It doesn't just fall and wash away, oh no, it stays around for  _ days _ !  _ Weeks _ ! Blocking the road and hiding the ground until it piles up so tall you can't even open the front door! We're going to be trapped! We're going to starve! The snow's got a mind of its own and its trying to  _ kill _ us!"

Chell had been sitting on the couch across the room reading and listening to Wheatley rant for about half an hour now. Usually she allowed him to get these sort of things out of his system without her interference, but now he was outright  _ yelling _ at the ceiling and she was beginning to wonder what the neighbors would think if they heard him. She gently closed her book before looking up at him with a small smile.

"Wheatley."

Her voice was soft but it was enough to snap his gaze down from the ceiling.

"What?" His voice sounded strained from talking at the ceiling all afternoon, and he looked like a tired child that needed a nap.

"Calm down." Chell said gently. "It just started snowing this morning. We've only gotten a few inches."

"Still!" He cried, "Its scary! Look at it!" He pointed a bony finger at a nearby window where the snow could be seen steadily drifting to the ground. Chell wanted to point out that it probably wasn't as dangerous as he thought if she could see the town's  _ children _ out playing in it, but Wheatley didn't give her the chance. "It takes over everything it touches! It buries it! It's water that  _ buries you alive! _ " 

"It can't hurt you here in the house." She assured him.

"You said that about the rain too, but that one day you left the window open and it got inside the house and-" A gust of wind swept around the house, howling at a horribly high pitch and causing Wheatley to howl too as it did so. 

Once the sound stopped he looked up at her with frightened blue eyes, silently seeking some form of help.

"All the windows are closed." Chell offered.

"Still." Wheatley sulked. He looked as though he was about ready to cry.

"Come here." Chell patted the spot next to her on the couch and Wheatley was there almost instantly, his arms wrapped around her in a trembling embrace and his face buried in the crook of her neck. She gave a soft huff of laughter as she draped the blanket she'd been using over top of him. "You're ok." She murmured, gently running a hand through his hair. "I'll protect you from the snow."


	2. Carol

Wheatley had never heard singing until Christmas came along. After that a radio somehow materialized on the kitchen counter (Chell assured him that it had always been there but he was fairly certain he would have noticed it before) and the house was constantly filled with sweet, happy Christmas music. Chell told him that she didn't listen to much modern music (whatever that meant), so they listened to classic carols. Wheatley thought the music was pretty, whatever it was. 

What he didn't realize was that, these fancy radio singer people weren't the only humans who  _ could _ sing. Wheatley had thought that the ability to sing was somehow integrated into design, sort of like how cores and turrets were both machines but turrets had the ability to shoot things while cores did not. This theory was quickly disproved when the towns children came knocking at the door one night and proceeded to sing Chell's favorite carols.

"That was amazing!" Wheatley cheered.

"Yeah?" One of the twins asked with a smile.

"Yes!" Wheatley cried, "I didn't know you could do that!"

Jake smiled up at him mischievously. "If you think  _ we _ sound good, you should hear Chell sing."

It took a moment for what he had said to register before Wheatley looked up at Chell with an awestruck expression that vaguely read That's-the-best-idea-I've-ever-heard-in-my-life. 

"No." Chell said firmly.

"Please?" Wheatley begged.

"Your voice is so pretty!" Auburn prompted.

"We'll even sing with you!" Jeffery added.

"No, thank you." Chell said amusedly as she ushered the children out the door. 

"But-"

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" 

An annoyed "Scrooge!" could be heard as the children shuffled through the yard. Chell thought it sounded like one of the twins. 

"You can do the signing thing too?" Wheatley asked excitedly. The way he was shuffling around make it look like he needed to use the bathroom. Chell smiled and shook her head.

"Yes." She said calmly, "So can you." 

"I don't think I'd be very good at it. Maybe you should demonstrate, and then I'll try." He seemed to think he was being clever.

"No." 

"Please?" 

"No."

"Why not?" Wheatley whined.

"Because, I don't like my voice." Chell said simply.

"That's crazy!" Wheatley cried, his arms flailing out beside him.

Chell shook her head. "Not really."

"Yes really!" His eyes looked like they might bulge out of his head. "You have the prettiest voice I've ever heard! It's so soft and warm and light! It's, it's like a blanket! Your voice is like a nice, metaphorical blanket! And it's so so pretty, that, I wish I could just cuddle up in it. Carry it around everywhere." He crossed his arms to his chest in a hug and proceeded to rock back and forth. "Your metaphorical voice blanket." "What? Too over the top?"

"Just a bit." 

"Please!" Wheatley begged, "Please won't you sing for me?"

"You're lucky I  _ talk _ for you." Chell said pointedly.

"Yes, yes I am. That's very true. Good observation." Wheatley cleared his throat. "But it is Christmas time, and so, in the spirit of Christmas, I think you should perform and extra act of kindness and  _ sing _ for me."

Chell's eyes glinted. "Or I could give Her a gift by making a certain gift  _ return _ ." 

"Hey!" Wheatley took a few steps back. "That's harsh! You wouldn't leave your poor little Wheatley all alone with Her, would you?" He pouted.

"That depends on whether or not my poor little Wheatley is going to change the subject." 

That particular conversation had been repeated many times throughout the week, as Wheatley continued to beg Chell to sing and Chell continued to tell him no. 

The kitchen radio had ruined her. One of her favorite songs had come on while she was washing the dishes, and now she was singing the chorus.

"It's that time of year when the world falls in love every song you hear seems to say, Merry Christmas, may your New Years dreams come true, and this song of mine in three quarter time wishes you and yours the same thing, too."

Her voice was a soft, pure alto that added perfect little harmonies to the song. Just the sound of it made Wheatley feel even more warm and fuzzy than the first time she held his hand. It made him want to melt. Wheatley really would roll around in the sound of her voice if he could.

It was their first argument that he had won, and, as a Christmas present to Chell (and himself), he wasn't going to tell her he had won it.


	3. Storm

Chell was on the other side of the house when the world plunged into darkness and Wheatley screamed. She knew what had happened almost instantly but part of her was still frightened because Wheatley didn't, and he sounded as though one of Her claws had sprang from the ceiling and proceeded to chase him around the house.

"Wheatley." Her voice was quiet but firm, and at the sound of it his screams stopped. "Everything is ok."

"What happened to the lights?" He asked weakly.

"The power went out." Chell said as she slowly felt her way through the living room. "Stay where you are."

Wheatley did as he was told, but as he was naturally a very jumpy person it was hard for him to stay still when he was hearing things all around him and he couldn't see any of them.

"What's that?" He whispered as he heard something shuffling around a few feet away. 

"It's just me." Chell said gently. She was rummaging through the cabinets trying to find something that would give off a little light.

"Why did the power have to go out now that it's dark?" Wheatley whimpered, "It wouldn't be so bad if it was still daylight out but now I can't-" His breath hitched as Chell found what she was looking for and soft light spilled across the room. "See."

"Here," Chell took Wheatley's hand and wrapped it firmly around the candle. "Hold this. Be careful, though. Don't drop it, and don't hold it too close." She gave a little laugh as he suddenly held it out as far away as could, his expression as terrified as if the flame was trying to jump off the wick and bite him. "That works." Chell smiled. At least in this case his fear was useful, Chell thought: if he was scared of the fire he probably wouldn't get burned.

Wheatley followed Chell from the kitchen and into the living room where she knelt next to a strange looking brick structure. He continued to follow her with the light as she moved back and forth between the odd looking structure and a rack full of wood sitting a little ways away.

"Chell, it's getting cold in here." Wheatley shivered. " _ Really _ cold, actually. Why is it so cold all of the sudden? It's almost like we're outside."

"The power went out, so the heat stopped running." Chell explained as she moved back to the wood pile.

"What are we going to do?"

"You'll see." She motioned him over. "Bring the light over here."

Wheatley did as he was told, carefully holding the candle out towards Chell. She pulled a tiny wooden stick out of a box he hadn't known she was holding and struck it across the flame. Chell then tossed the stick (which was on fire, that was important) onto the wood inside the brick box thing where fire began to devour the rest of the wood.

"Fire?" Wheatley jumped away the second she dropped the match. "You're building a fire inside the house? Have you gone mad?" He blanched: she might as well have pulled a lemon grenade out of her pocket. "You're going to burn the house down!" 

"No I'm not." Chell sounded vaguely annoyed as she closed two little glass doors Wheatley hadn't noticed. When he looked back he saw that the fire was safely contained behind them.

"Oh... It just... Stays in its little box?" 

"Yes." Chell looked tired as she took the candle out of his hand (it was a wonder he hadn't set the house or himself on fire with the way he had scrambled away a minute ago) and blew out the flame. "This won't heat the house as well as the furnace would, but it should still help."

Once the fire grew Chell turned around and began to rearrange the living room. She scooted the coffee table away from the couch and out towards the entrance to the house. Chell then returned to the couch and began to pry it apart.

"Now what are you doing?" Wheatley exasperated, though he quickly shut up after Chell looked up at him sharply. "Alright, alright." He lifted his hands in surrender, "It's just that it  _ looks _ like you're trying to pry the couch apart. With your bare hands."

Chell had already pulled all the comfy cushions off the couch, but now she was tugged at some metal frame down inside it. She lifted up on the metal and it came with her, and a surprised Wheatley watched as a bed folded out of the couch.

"Wh- There's a  _ bed _ in the couch?" He cried, "Where was that when I was  _ living _ on the couch? I could've used that!" He looked at her incredulously. "Was it there?"

Chell smiled mischievously. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me? Or sign, or something?"

"You were in trouble." Chell smirked. Wheatley didn't argue. "This was the first piece of furniture we got into the house." Wheatley wondered who "we" was. "I usually sleep out here by the fireplace when it gets too cold." She patted a corner of the mattress. "We'll sleep here tonight."

Apparently Wheatley took that as a que to go to sleep then and there, because no sooner than the words had left Chell's lips he flopped down on the bed with a contented sigh.

"This is actually pretty comfortable." Wheatley smiled up at her. "Why are you laughing?"

Maybe is was because Wheatley looked like an overgrown starfish the way his limbs were sprawled out, or maybe it was because the next day was Christmas Eve and Chell was giddy, or maybe it was just because it was late and she was getting a bit slap happy, but something was making Chell laugh. 

No, Wheatley thought, not laugh; giggle. The big scary lady who had taken down Her  _ giggled _ . Her laugh was light and musical, and it looked every bit as cute as it sounded. 

Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the light of the fire, and her head bowed forward the tiniest bit as one of her hands came up to cover her mouth. 

Wheatley had no clue as to what he had done that had been so funny but if he knew what it was he would have done it again.

"I'm glad you like it," Chell coughed once her laughter died down. "but there's a little more to it than that."

Wheatley reluctantly stood up and watched as Chell covered the bed in the sheets and blankets and pillows.

"Oh." Wheatley said once she was finished, "That looks even better."

He burrowed down under the pile of blankets until only his nose was peeking out. "This is actually kind of nice. Cozy. It's warm in here with the fire, and all the blankets are so soft. There's more space, too. I can actually stretch out. This is better than sleeping in an actual bed." He stretched for emphasis. "And I can't believe how  _ warm _ it is in here!" His eyes rolled in a happy arch the way his optic used to. "I mean, I know there's a fire and everything, but I would still think it wouldn't be nearly as warm as if the power was still on." Wheatley tried to stretch out again but this time he bumped into Chell, who didn't feel very warm at all. Her hand was like an ice cube. "Are you still cold?"

"A little." She said softly.

Wheatley accidentally did the staring at Chell thing again. It wasn't his fault, really, it was just that she had taken her hair down, and he had never gotten a good look at her with her hair down before. It looked long and soft and he would've run his fingers through it if he couldn't already picture her (literally) kicking him off the bed. Her grey eyes were bright and alert despite how tired she looked. They reflected the firelight like they had reflected the stars earlier on in the year. The fire also made her skin look bright and warm despite how cold she really was.

"Why didn't you say something? Here," He wrapped his arms around her stomach and pulled her to his chest until he was curled around her. "Is this better?"

"Yes." Chell murmured, her face a soft shade of pink. "Thank you."

She must have been tired because before Wheatley could say anything else she was asleep. The last thing Wheatley thought before he joined her was that, if it meant he got to cuddle with Chell like this, he hoped the power would go out more often.


	4. Cold

Chell awoke to find that both Wheatley and her voice were gone. Her throat was hot and soar, and she was so dizzy she could hardly sit up. 

Wheatley was no where in sight. Apparently he had gotten up before her, some time ago, if his cold side of the bed was any indication. It was also evident that he put out a lot more heat than she did, because Chell was freezing once again.

After a moment she pulled herself into a sitting position and knocked on one of the tables next to the couch until Wheatley came running in. 

"What's wrong?" Wheatley began to panic when Chell made no move to answer him. "Why aren't you talking?" Still no reply. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? What did I do?" As Chell continued to sit in silence Wheatley began to pace. "All I did was get up and make myself some cereal, but you told me that I'm allowed in the kitchen now and I promise I didn't use the stove or anything I just grabbed a box from the pantry and some milk from the fridge- I didn't even spill it! What did I do? Why are you mad?" 

Wheatley looked as though he was about to pull his hair out before Chell pressed a hand to her throat and shook her head. 

"Oh, you aren't mad?" He stopped pacing. "You just... You can't talk? Are you ok?" 

Now that he thought about it, Chell didn't look as though she felt very good. Her skin was paler than usual and her eyes were sort of dull. She looked tired and drained.

Chell closed her eyes. ' _ I don't know. _ '

"That wasn't a yes." Wheatley whined. "You were supposed to say  _ yes Wheatley I'm perfectly fine stop worrying over nothing. _ "

Chell scrunched up her nose. ' _ I don't talk like that. _ '

"But you didn't say that, so something is wrong, isn't it?" He took her hand and squeezed it. "Are you going to be ok? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Chell pointed with her free hand. ' _ Bring me the phone _ .'

"What? This thing?" He handed it to her. "Ok, I think I know what that is, but in order for it to actually help don't you have to talk into it?"

' _ Not necessarily _ .'

Wheatley watched as Chell dialed a number and pressed the phone to her ear. After a moment someone answered on the other side, but instead of replying verbally Chell began tapping in the phone. The speaker on the other end responded with something Wheatley couldn't hear before they hung up. He was about to ask Chell what they had said but then she motioned for him to go wait by the front door.

Wheatley waited by the door for about five minutes before he heard a car pull into the driveway. He opened the door to find a little old lady with bright red hair coming up the sidewalk.

"Oh," Wheatley waved. "Hello, Sam."

"Hello, Wheatley." She smiled as he held the door open for her. "How is she?"

He scratched his head. "Um... Well... She can't talk, at the moment. She won't get up out of bed. She doesn't want to sit up." 

"Soar throat, dizziness, headaches. Got it." Sam nodded. "Thank you." 

When Wheatley showed Sam into the living room Chell looked different than she had the last time he had seen her. Now she had pulled her hair up in its ponytail, straightened out her clothes, and propped herself up in a sitting position. Wheatley didn't think she actually felt better, it was more that she was trying to make herself look better off than she really was. Though part of him wondered why she hadn't done that before she had called him into the room earlier.

"Hello Michelle." Sam smiled as she made her way over to Chell. "Was the cold last night a bit too much?" The older woman chuckled as she sighed. 

Wheatley fidgeted as Sam started pulling little medical doohickeys out of the bag she had brought. Something about this was making him nervous. He was worried about Chell, but for some reason he didn't really want to know what was wrong and he certainly didn't want to watch Chell be poked and prodded. The whole thing reminded him of There, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes." She handed him three little packets of something Wheatley didn't recognize. "Go in the kitchen and brew some of this." 

Both Chell and Wheatley paled at the word kitchen but Wheatley did as he was told. Sam snickered when she saw Chell's distressed expression. 

"Don't worry. If it were possible to burn the house down by brewing tea, I assure you, Michael would have already done it."

After Sam explained how to make tea Wheatley did his best to tune out the rest of what she said. If something was wrong he would rather hear it from Chell herself, and besides, if he heard something he didn't like he would just rush in and get in the way. Wheatley didn't tune back into the conversation until the tea was done and by then Sam sounded serious.

"I'm sorry my dear, but no means no. You need to stay in. You'll catch pneumonia if you go out in that cold."

"Um?" He said as he peeked into the living room. "I have the tea."

"Good. Thank you, dear." Sam patted a corner of the bed. "Why don't you come here?"

"What?" He brushed his thumb over the back of Chell's hand. "Is everything ok? Are you alright, love?"

"I'm afraid not." Sam said gently, handing Chell a cup. "Don't worry, it's nothing serious, but Chell has caught a cold and she needs to stay inside and keep warm for the next few days."

"It's Christmas Eve." Wheatley didn't know what surprised him more, the fact that she could speak again or the pleading tone she was using. 

Sam shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You'll catch pneumonia if you go out in that cold sick like this."

"But-"

"No buts!" Sam snapped. "Stay inside and rest or you'll get worse and we all know where you'll end up."

Wheatley didn't, but by the way Chell's expression turned to one of her stoic testing looks he could tell he didn't want to. Sam noticed too and when she spoke again her voice was softer.

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you. But it's not like I'm sentencing you to spend Christmas all alone, either. You still have Wheatley for company."

Chell didn't comment. 

Sam gave a soft laugh as she headed for the door. Wheatley followed her.

"Keep her in line, dear." Emerald green eyes winked up at him. "She's a stubborn one."

"Heh... I am aware. Trust me. Already figured that one out." Wheatley sighed.

"Make sure she stays inside where it's warm, she gets plenty of rest, and remind her to rest her voice for a few days too." Sam reminded him as she tugged on her coat. "We don't want her losing it again."

"Right." Wheatley nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem dear. Call me if you need anything!"

After he showed Sam out, Wheatley turned to find Chell standing behind him. Beside her the closet door was open and she was pulling her coat out of it.

"What are you doing? Didn't you hear what she said?"

"Yes." 

"Then what are you doing?"

"Getting ready to go into town."

"Wh- B-"

"It's just a little cold." Chell said gently. "It's nothing serious. I only called her to make sure it wasn't the flu. It isn't. I'm fine." Her grey eyes held a determined spark. "I can handle a little cold."

"Chell," Wheatley exasperated, "You're human."

"And?" The angry look she gave him indicated that she expected the rest of his statement to be insulting. 

"And, humans get sick. I know that you don't like receiving help, or even asking for it," He glanced through a window at Sam's car as it disappeared down the road. "but you're sick and you need to stay home and take a break for a bit. There's no shame in it."

"It's Christmas Eve." Chell emphasized.

Wheatley shook his head. "You've already said that."

"It only comes once a year. I'm not going to miss it just because I have a little cold."

"Chell,"

"I'm fine." She glared. 

"No you're not!" He snapped. "Look," His voice turned soft as he took her hand. "If you won't stay in for your own safety, do it for mine, will you?" The anger in her eyes was replaced with confusion. "Well, you heard the lady. If you go out there and spend all day in the cold you're going to get a lot worse. You could even die."

Chell shook her head. "She didn't say that."

"She didn't have to." Wheatley said quietly. "I may be an idiot but even I know what pneumonia is. And it can kill people. It has." He squeezed her hand. "And you have to know, you absolutely have to know, that if anything ever happened to you... I don't know what I would do." His blue eyes gave her a pained look as his voice cracked. "I don't think I'd be able to do anything, honestly." 

The anger in her eyes began to fade and Wheatley knew he was getting somewhere. 

"It's not exactly the end of the world, is it? Staying in the nice warm house and cuddling with your favorite Wheatley all day? Safe from the elements?" He smiled down at her. "I can think of worse things." Chell gave him a dry look of protest. "Come on," He gently tugged her back into the living room. "Boots off, coat off, gloves off," Chell obliged but glared at him (lightly) as she did so. "Come here." He plopped down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. "Right here."

The look Chell gave him told Wheatley that she was torn between listening to him or strangling him. After a moment she sat down next to him with a soft huff. 

"There's a girl." Wheatley purred as he pulled her into his arms. "Thank you." He curled around her in a sort of human cocoon the way he had the night before. "Let's rest for a bit, shall we?"

Chell obliged: she was exhausted though she would never admit it. She was so tired and comfortable that she allowed herself to go back to sleep and stay asleep, which was why she was a bit startled when she woke up to find that she had slept a bit longer than she had intended. 

The house was quiet. Wheatley was no longer cuddled up next to her, but he had covered her snuggly under a pile of blankets before he'd gotten up, which had succeeded in keeping her warm after he had left. 

Chell smiled when she noticed that he had also turned the Christmas tree on, something that she had forgotten about earlier. Even more surprising than the tree and the blankets was that, if the way the house now smelled was any indication, Wheatley had also made them lunch without setting the house on fire in the process. 

Chell giggled as Wheatley peered into the living room from the kitchen.

"Oh, you're up!" He cheered. "You've been asleep for awhile now, love. It's about two o'clock. You must've been tired." He sat down next to her and too her hand. "Feeling any better?"

It made Chell feel a little silly, but after seeing everything Wheatley had done to take care of her the answer was yes.


	5. Ornaments (Part One)

Chell took a moment to savor the scent of fresh pine, and the plush feel of carpet between her fingers. The drowsy lull of  _ “Oh there's no place like home for the holidays~”  _ drifted from the kitchen radio, closely followed by the aroma of the christmas cookie candle that burned on the counter top. 

She sat on the floor, perched on her knees as she peered into the bright red tote that sat in front of her. Candy colored Christmas decorations winked up at her, casting tangled strings of light onto the ceiling as they reflected the soft glow of the fire.

Chell was thrilled that Christmas was here once again, and she wasn’t alone in her excitement. 

“Colored lights?” Wheatley mused from his place at her side, “I thought you’d have more of a, a  _ traditional  _ taste when it came to Christmas decorations. That’s what the neighbors had, right?”

“That’s right.” 

The day before Elizabeth had invited them over to help decorate her house for Christmas, continuing her and Chell’s tradition, and paying the pair in Christmas cookies. Since Wheatley had taken such an interest in all the decorations, and it was already December, Chell had decided that it wouldn’t hurt to put hers up as well. 

Now that they had finished hauling everything out of the attic and actually begun looking through it, Wheatley didn’t understand why Chell’s decorations didn’t match those of the neighbor’s.

“Their tree was covered in little white lights.” She looked behind her as if to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation (what was that all about? They were the only people in the house! Weren’t they...?) before scooting a little closer and whispering, “But between you and me, I’ve spent enough time around white lights to last a few lifetimes.” Wheatley would’ve expected a shadow to cross her face at the mention of… such things, but instead she smiled somewhat mischievously as she began to unwind the string of lights. “Not a big fan.”

Wheatley chuckled nervously.

“Well, um, yes. I suppose that would make sense.” He smiled at her teasingly when he noticed some interesting colors on a few of the bulbs. “Orange and blue are better, then?”

Chell paused her work for a second or so to smirk up at him, and for some reason Wheatley found that, when her eyes met his, something in his chest twisted and he couldn’t move.

Her eyes glittered.

“I happen to  _ like  _ blue.”

He swallowed.

“Well- I happen to like orange.”

Behind the pair the radio crooned  _ “I’ve got my love to keep me warm,”  _ and as Chell stood Wheatley whipped around and glared at it.

He couldn’t see her face but her voice was coy.

“Then I guess that settles it.”

She walked over to the wall and plugged the string of lights into the outlet: green, blue, pink, red, and orange briefly flaring to life before they were once again extinguished. At Wheatley’s inquisitive look Chell smiled. 

“They work.”

After checking the lights it was time to put them on the tree. Wheatley quickly realized that doing so was one of his least favorite Christmas activities. 

The needles of the tree were aptly named because it felt like being pricked every time he touched one. If he tried to touch one of the branches, more often than not, his hand would come away sticky with sap. Just about the only pleasant thing about the tree, aside from it’s lovely green hue, was it’s smell. That, and the fact that decorating it was one of the few things Wheatley could help Chell with.

Since the tree was against the back wall of the living room, Chell would pass the lights to him behind the tree and he would return them to her at it’s front. The two of them handed off the lights in this manner about four times before the cycle was halted. When Chell did not reappear at the back of the tree for the fifth pass, Wheatley took it upon himself to locate her. When he did so she looked up at him with a half begrudging, half miserable expression. 

He knew why almost immediately. 

“Are you, um,” There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the dorky grin that was quickly enveloping his face, nor contain the helpless little laughs that began to escape him. “Are you too short?” Chell looked up at him, deadpan. The moment he realized his mistake he flailed in an attempt to fix it, which was only made more amusing by the fact that he couldn’t stop laughing. “Wait, wait, wait, let me um, let me  _ rephrase  _ that.”

Chell had to fight a smile herself as she crossed her arms.

_ ‘Mmhm.’ _

After taking a moment to compose himself, Wheatley smiled down at her as pleasantly as possible. “Would you like me to help you with that?”

Chell had half a mind to say no, just to wipe the grin off his face (she absolutely  _ hated  _ that he was taller than her), but she knew that allowing him to finish the top of the tree would hurt her pride far less than listening to him guffaw at her as she dragged a ladder out of the garage to do the job herself. 

She gave a withering sigh as she handed the lights over to Wheatley.

“Thank you.” She said flatly.

He watched, puzzled, as she plopped down on the couch.

“You're welcome. I think.”


	6. Cookies

Making Christmas cookies might’ve been Wheatley’s favorite holiday activity. 

He and Chell would make a huge mess together in the kitchen, covering one counter in flour and the other in platters and baking sheets. Packages, rolls of cookie dough would be emptied, some onto the countertops and others into their stomachs (the package said not to eat the raw cookie dough but Chell said they would be fine) as they spent hours upon hours baking.

Chell taught Wheatley how to roll the dough and cut it into shapes with the cookie cutters. She told him that the cookies didn’t have to be perfect (after all, they were just going to eat them), but that if he made a mistake that he wanted to fix, or if he didn’t have enough leftover dough to make another shape, he could just take the dough he had left, roll it into a ball, flatten it back out, and start over (maybe that was one of the reasons why he loved it so much: he really couldn’t fail). When he was done with each shape he carefully removed it from the counter and placed it onto one of the baking sheets as Chell instructed. Once each sheet was full she would place it in the oven (that was the one part of the process she would not let him help with), where she would linger as she hummed along with the radio.

They helped themselves to more than a few cookies fresh out of the oven (being human might have been worth it just for that), and once they were cooled Wheatley watched as Chell meticulously coated each one with icing. When she somehow managed to get red icing on her nose right as Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer began to play, Wheatley laughed so hard that the flour from the countertop flew everywhere. Once Chell recovered her pride she allowed him to add sprinkles to the newly frosted cookies, and this time she lost it as he accidentally dumped the entire container onto one. 

“That one’s yours.”

At the end of the day nearly every platter in the kitchen was filled to the brim with cookies, and the smell of the house was mouthwatering. They watched the snow fall outside the kitchen window, and listened to the little countertop radio trill tidings of joy as they huddled by the warmth of the oven, watching the last batch of cookies bake.


	7. Santa

Snow crunched pleasantly under Chell’s boots as she opened the back door and joined Wheatley out on the patio. He had been standing out in the cold for about ten minutes now, she had originally thought he'd just stepped outside for a moment to look at the snow, but all too quickly moments turned to minutes and ice, snow, freezing temperatures, darkness and Wheatley seemed a very dangerous mix.

She saw him standing on the patio as soon as she opened the door, a rush of cold air making her shudder despite the thick winter coat she’d drawn over her pyjamas. Wheatley hadn't wandered off in the dark nor (somehow) impaled himself with an icicle (thank goodness), he was simply standing with his arms crossed, staring up at the sky. Though Chell doubted that finding shapes in the clouds in the dark had been enough to keep him entertained for so long.

Crystal eyes followed his line of sight, her chilled breath spiralling out into the winter air as a soft sigh escaped her lips, which instantly turned upward in a smile of wonder.

“Beautiful.”

Snow clouds had painted the horizon grey and white for what felt like weeks now, but unbeknownst to Chell, they had vacated the sky that afternoon, leaving a sea of diamonds in their wake. The stars shone on all the more brilliant for their negligence, and when she saw just how many had revealed themselves the air felt shocked with magic as well as cold. 

Little things like this always reminded Chell of all that she had missed while she had been in There; of how much she had gained since coming here. It was strange to think that there was a time, only a few years prior, when she’d never seen the stars before. She smiled bitter sweetly at the sky. Maybe this was what he was doing too: taking a moment to stop and appreciate all that he’d gained.

Though, considering certain… past events… she seriously doubted that staring up at the stars brought Wheatley the same happy thoughts of freedom.

She glanced at the moon as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?” 

Wheatley jumped at the contact (somehow Chell even managed to sneak around in the snow), but smiled when he saw that it was only her.

“‘Course.” He said half dubiously, “Why wouldn't I be?”

Chell smirked as she pulled her coat tighter around her shivering frame.

“Well, it’s Christmas Eve. It’s dark. It’s below freezing. You’re standing outside in the snow staring up at the stars.”

She looked up at him expectantly, watching the gears in his head turn as she waited for him to put the pieces together. It took a moment or two, and his thoughts reached a very different conclusion than what she'd expected, but Chell swore she could almost see a little light bulb appear over his head as his eyes widened.

“Oh God!” He suddenly snatched her hands up in his, and she was glad that it was dark because she could feel her face turn pink when she realized that he was trying to keep them warm. His voice quickly turned to a panicky whine full of concern. “You’re going to get sick! Err- well- sicker! More sick, I mean. You shouldn’t be out in the cold! Sam said you need to stay inside where it's warm!” One of his hands moved to the small of her back and he gently nudged (not pushed, mind you) her towards the door. “Why don't you go back inside and I'll be in in a-”

“No.” The stars glinted stubbornly in her eyes as she turned to face him, and though her voice was rough from her cold he knew there would be no arguing with it. As if he needed any further convincing she crossed her arms.

“I’ll go inside when you do.”

“Wheatley,” Chell asked softly, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He'd followed her inside immediately after her threat to stay out, but he had also lingered by the windows ever since. Whatever he was remembering he seemed to be tormenting himself over it (he had been staring up at the sky for over an hour now) and this was not how she wanted him to start his first Christmas.

“Never better, love.”

The smile on his face wasn't fake because she knew from experience what it looked and sounded like when someone covered up guilt with a smile, and this was not it. So if he wasn’t thinking about the past, then why on Earth did he keep staring up at the-

‘Oh.’

Chell chuckled to herself.

“Are you... looking for something?”

“... Maybe.”

She couldn't see his face, but he sounded a bit like a child who was trying not to spoil a surprise.

She smiled knowingly into her book.

“You’re not going to see him, you know.”

At that Wheatley turned to face her.

“See who?”

“Santa Claus.” Her eyes glittered as they met his. “That’s who you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He nodded excitedly. “I mean, he's a magical human who lives forever and uses flying deer to travel to every house on earth in a single night! Doesn't use portals or anything! It's incredible!” His smile was replaced with a frown as he remembered what she'd said. “I want to see. Why can’t I?”

“Because Santa Claus is something you’re supposed to be believe in. You don’t get to see things you’re supposed to believe in, otherwise you wouldn’t need to believe in them.” Wheatley looked a bit bewildered. “Does that make any sense?”

He looked out the window somewhat dejectedly.

“I guess so.”

“Besides,” She yawned, “He isn’t going to visit you- either one of us- unless we’re both asleep by the time he gets here.”

That was certainly a faster way to get him away from the window.


	8. Lights

Wheatley sat awake in bed, looking at the tree and listening to the quiet  _ tick _ ,  _ tick _ ,  _ tick  _ of the clock that sat on the mantlepiece.

Christmas was nearly over. 

As the remaining hour of the day began to slip away, Wheatley felt a mix of happiness, peace, and just the tiniest bit of sadness wash over him. 

He hadn't expected the sadness; though it wasn't too hard to figure out why it was there.

Of course Wheatley hoped that he would have many more Christmases, but he knew that he would never again have a  _ first _ Christmas. He knew that what had happened that day was special, and that nothing exactly like it would ever happen again. That it was likely that nothing would ever come close until next December. He supposed that December the twenty sixth must’ve been the saddest day of the year because it meant the longest number of days left until the next Christmas.

And speaking of next Christmas, Wheatley wondered whether or not he would spend anymore Christmases with Chell. 

She was nestled up beside him, wrapped up in about three different quilts and curled lightly against his side. 

Wheatley smiled down at her and chuckled to himself. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if by this time next year she'd tossed him out into a snowbank somewhere. She'd had half a mind to on more than one occasion this past week, and they both knew it. But, no, that wasn’t fair to Chell. He knew that she would never actually kick him out; she was far more patient than that. And besides, they'd nearly spent six months together now. If she really wanted to get rid of him she'd had plenty of opportunities to do so. 

Maybe they could keep this (whatever it was) up until next Christmas.

Wheatley sighed contentedly.

Honestly, this might have been the most at peace he'd ever felt. Nothing in his life had ever been this picturesque, and even as Christmas day faded the beauty of it did not. 

The Christmas tree sat in the corner of the room, it’s multicolored lights giving the room a cozy glow and reflecting in the precious ornaments it’s branches held. From the window behind it snowflakes could be seen lazily drifting to the ground. 

Once again Wheatley turned his attention to Chell, wrapping an arm around her and snuggling up against her. 

“Merry Christmas, love.”

Chell shifted and hummed sleepily.

“Merry Christmas.”

Something came over him as she fell asleep, and Wheatley wasn’t sure if the sudden confidence he felt was a result of too much eggnog or a bit of lingering Christmas magic, but he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before drifting off.


	9. Deer

“Shhh,” Chell nudged Wheatley in the side, giving him a soft glare as she nodded towards the deer. “You’re going to scare them away.”

With her house being on the edge of the woods, Chell had taken to feeding the deer in the winter. The sight was pretty enough, Wheatley would admit-- a yard full of deer, poised in the snow-- but he would much rather watch from the safety of the indoors than actually tend to the creatures.

“Okay, yes,” Wheatley whispered, “But consider, wild animals do belong in the woods. Generally. Right?” A dozen dark eyes watched as he waited for an answer he didn’t receive. “So, really, would it be such a bad thing, if--”

_ “Hush.” _

__ He frowned with a pout as Chell continued several steps without him.

“Do we have to get so close?” Wheatley jumped, nearly spilling his bucket of feed as the closest deer darted to the edge of the woods. The bare trees didn’t do much to hide the scrawny thing, but it made it’s point: it was uneasy. The other animals seemed to copy the sentiment, stamping their feet and tossing their heads. Wheatley gave a huff of laughter. “ _ See _ , they don’t like it either.”

Chell tried very hard not to shake her head at his antics.

“They’re skittish.” She said. “And hungry.” Chell noted how much farther they needed to go (how much closer to the deer they needed to get), and how Wheatley's footfalls (and ramblings) were much louder than hers. She relented. “You don’t have to come any closer if you don’t want to.”

“ _ Thank _ you.”

Wheatley handed off his bucket of feed, watching with wonder and mild worry as Chell proceeded onward without him. Despite the snow, her movements were graceful and almost completely silent. For this reason, or perhaps another (she was now carrying two buckets of feed, she had fed them before and they recognized her, or maybe just because she was Chell), the deer didn't seem as frightened of her. They backed away a step or two, flicking their ears nervously when she got too close, but for the most part their glassy eyes watched with cautious fascination as she came towards the feed trough where they were gathered. Chell was much the same: a soft smile tugging at her lips as their dark eyes met hers. She held their gaze.

And, much to Wheatley's surprise, (for all her talk of being quiet) Chell also  _ spoke _ to them. Her voice sounded different than usual-- softer, more placating-- but (Wheatley couldn't help to think) it was  _ soothing _ to listen to, and it seemed to do the trick in calming in the flighty creatures.

“It’s alright.” Chell murmured, still watching the deer as she carefully filled the trough. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just here to help.”

The deer came to her after that, sniffing at her as they slowly stalked forward. Once they reached the food she'd brought they were far more trusting, leaving Chell to her own devices a foot or so away while they ate, their meal only briefly interrupted as they watched the two humans observing them.


	10. Frost

In all the movies Wheatley and Chell had watched, Christmas morning started with noise. Whether it was the chime of church bells or the excited cries of children, the arrival of Christmas day was announced with prominence, excitement, and volume.

Not in Horizon.

Or, at least, not in Chell’s house.

For Wheatley Christmas morning was much like the frost on the windowpanes: silent, beautiful, and all encompassing.

His waking thought was  _ Christmas _ , and though he took a moment to savour the warmth of the bed, Chell’s soft weight at his side, he quickly slipped away from both, smiling to himself like a madman as he padded through the house, taking in the lights and the snow and the frost and even the cold with childlike wonder. And though part of Wheatley would have loved to share the very first moments of his very first Christmas with Chell, starting off alone was almost better.

It allowed him to see her wake up.

It also gave him time to do something else.

\--------------------------------------------

Wheatley had taken to Christmas with all the childlike wonder Chell had expected and then some. He had woken before her that morning (that in itself was impressive, as Wheatley was not a morning person and usually had to be dragged or bribed away from the warmth of the bed), turning on all the Christmas lights, the tree, and the Christmas carols via the counter-top radio. He’d also made both of them hot chocolate to go with the pastries Charlotte had traded Chell for cookies, and, by the time Chell woke, had already started watching Christmas cartoons.

And while Chell was glad that Wheatley was enjoying himself, she wasn't quite as enthusiastic.

Of course she loved Christmas. Though she was still sick, she felt much better than she had the day before. Staying in bed where it was warm, marathoning Christmas movies was certainly nice, but she couldn't stop thinking about what she was  _ missing _ . The parties and the food and the people, the music. Saying Merry Christmas to all her friends. Watching the town’s children unwrap their gifts. She was missing all of it. And, sure, it would come again next year, but it wouldn't be the same. This Christmas would never come again, and she was missing it.

Even worse, Wheatley was missing it because of her. Chell had asked him if he wanted to go to any of the Christmas parties that day-- told him that he would have fun, that it would be no trouble for someone to come pick him up, and that she wanted him to enjoy his first Christmas-- but he only said that he wouldn’t have any fun without her.

At least someone would miss her.

Not one of Chell’s friends had called to wish her Merry Christmas, or to check on her. No one had stopped by the house. Not even the children. In all their fun, had they forgotten about her? Chell was beginning to wonder if Sam had scared them all into leaving her alone so she could rest. Did they honestly think she was going to sleep through Christmas Day? She had a cold, not the flu.

Wheatley was acting a bit strangely, too. What with all his enthusiasm for the holiday, Chell had half expected him to dive into the Christmas presents before she woke up. Instead he refused to touch them even after she asked if he wanted to open them. He had said something about making the holiday last, which was very sweet, and thoughtful, and somewhat unlike him.

So Chell sat curled up on the couch in an ugly Christmas sweater, watching Miracle on 34th Street pouting in a kind of suspicious stupor as this very strange Christmas continued.

“I believe, I believe. It's silly, but I believe.”

And then the doorbell rang.

Chell perked up, happy (and a bit relieved) to know that her friends hadn’t forgotten about her. Wheatley had to hide a smile as he headed for the door.

“Now who could that be?”

There were cries of “Merry Christmas!” and the sound of running footsteps down the hall before a familiar face entered the living room and practically tackled her.

“Jake!” Chell cheered, laughing as he lunged at her, trapping her in a hug. “Merry Christmas!” She said. “Not too close, though. I’m contaminated.” She joked, pushing him away as gently as possible as she smiled up at Michael. “What are you doing here?”

Michael smirked.

“This is where the party’s at, right?”

“Party?”

Chell smiled dubiously as the doorbell rang again.

“I’ll get it.” Jake chimed, running off to the entryway.

Another round of “Merry Christmas!”s sounded from the doorway as a new group of people came inside, and Chell shook her head.

“Party?” She repeated. “Michael James, did you--”

"Actually, this was all  _ his _ idea." Michael admitted, gesturing to where Wheatley stood chatting excitedly with the twins. "We thought if you couldn't come to us, we'd come to you."

Chell’s smile could’ve lit up the house all by itself.

Chell’s formerly silent house was filled with people, chatter, and laughter, and food, and music as the evening wore on, and as she sat there on the couch, soaking it all in, she couldn't help but think that this was her kind of Christmas.

When Wheatley finally managed to escape from the kitchen (Charlotte needed a taste tester and had roped him into it) he settled beside Chell on the couch, smiling sneakily as he offered her a piece of fudge.

“You did this?” Chell asked.

“No,” He mumbled between a mouthful of fudge, “Charlotte made these.”

Chell smirked, nudging him gently.

“I meant the party.”

“Oh.” Wheatley swallowed. “I-- Well-- I called them. Everyone. And asked them if they could come. But I didn't-- I mean-- the food, and the gifts, and all of that-- they brought all of that on their own. Didn't ask about it.” He shrugged, smiling. “I didn't do much of anything, really.”

“Yes you did.” Wheatley nearly choked as Chell’s head came to rest on his shoulder, one of her hands entwining with his. “Thank you.”

There were more shouts of “Merry Christmas!” as another group of people came inside, and Chell couldn’t agree more.


	11. Mistletoe

The twins had planned a small surprise for Chell's Christmas party, but like most of the surprises in Chell's life, it went awry very quickly.

Auburn and Jake had been pining for each other for years, and the twins were sick of it. At this rate the two of them would never get together, which meant they would never stop with sad sighs, or the longing looks-- and, most importantly-- they would never  _ stop talking _ about how badly they wanted to get together.

The twins couldn't take it anymore.

They were going to pull their hair out if Auburn and Jake didn't spill it sometime soon (they couldn't take another year of this), but (thankfully) before it came to that, they were presented with an opportunity too perfect to pass up.

Christmas.

What better way to out a romantic confession than with some mistletoe? And what better cover for mistletoe than a Christmas party?

It was  _ perfect _ . Auburn and Jake were bound to get stuck under the mistletoe at some point, and then they would  _ have  _ to confess because they would have to  _ kiss _ . Even better, there was nothing suspicious about mistletoe at a Christmas party! Auburn and Jake would be happy, together, and in love (and quiet). They would never even know that the twins had had anything to do with it.

There was just one problem.

Auburn and Jake didn't end up under the mistletoe.

Chell and Wheatley did.

Neither Daniel or Danni were exactly sure how it happened (something about Charlotte needing help in the kitchen, Chell going to help her and Wheatley following). When all of a sudden Chell and Wheatley were standing in the doorway to the kitchen, frozen, as Charlotte tried not to laugh.

And though the twins should have probably been running, because they had put the mistletoe there, and Chell could probably kill them if she really wanted to, they couldn't help but think that  _ this  _ was strange, a bit suspicious if you asked them, because who had ever seen Chell look frightened, or heard Wheatley go silent? She was pale and he was red, and all the town's children tried and failed to bite back giddy smiles as they watched from the safety of the front room.

Wheatley looked above their heads with mild dread, somehow turning redder as he looked back down at Chell. He knew what mistletoe was (which was  _ why  _ he was so red), though he had no idea where this had come from or where it was going. Chell’s expression was completely blank, unreadable, and though Wheatley would love to let her take the lead in this strange, messy situation, she seemed to be frozen.

“Do we have to, um,” He swallowed (No, don’t say it like  _ that _ ! That wasn’t what he meant!), pointing upward with a shaky hand. “Should we…?”

He found himself gravitating closer to her even as he asked, and he was torn because part of him was terrified and part of him was excited, and then there were the _ human social consequences _ of his actions, because the whole mistletoe thing was another crazy human tradition that everyone else might hate him for breaking and Chell might hate him for following. But Chell wasn’t moving away as he moved closer, only her eyes were moving as they met his, terrified and terrifying and caught and beautiful, and the two of them were really very close now.

The children scooted closer.

Chell unfroze then, making a noise that was somewhere near a laugh as her hand shot out to keep Wheatley from coming any closer. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or hurt as he backed away.

“Sorry.” Chell said. Her voice was soft, quiet, and the glint in her eyes was almost teasing as she coughed. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

Now Wheatley stood frozen (and once again red) as Chell slipped past, and something told everyone watching that he probably wouldn’t have minded.

\----------------------------------

The children of Horizon sat in stunned silence as they watched Chell slip past an equally stunned Wheatley, and tried very hard not to scream.

"Oh my gosh." Auburn breathed, still smiling and trying to hide it. "Did you see the looks on their faces?"

Jake wasn’t much better.

"I haven't seen Chell look at anyone like that since--" He grinned. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Of course I do! I'm not blind." Auburn smirked, teasingly rolling her eyes. "They're obviously in love."

“Do you think we could try and get them together?”

In the background Danni screamed into a pillow while her brother face planted into the couch.


	12. Ornaments (Part Two)

Wheatley had found it rather amusing when Chell came up short with the Christmas lights, but being left to finish the job himself wasn't nearly as funny. He toyed with what remained of the string of lights, trying not to squirm under Chell’s highly amused and ever watchful eyes.

He swallowed.

“The only problem is that now you can’t hand the lights off to me when they need to go on the other side of the tree, because you’re-” Wheatley swore he could actually  _ feel  _ her glare hit the back of his head. “All the way over there.”

Chell smirked darkly.

_ ‘Nice save.’ _

Wheatley fidgeted, looking at everything that wasn’t her.

__ “I guess that’s alright though, since the top is smaller anyways, right?”

He gave a pleading look in her direction, but Chell stayed silent. He could think her stubborn if he liked, but if he wanted to laugh at her, he could figure this out for himself.

And he did, eventually.

It took a few tries, more than a few stifled laughs on Chell’s part, and quite a lot of annoyed mumbling from Wheatley, but finally the last of the lights were arranged on the tree. By that point Wheatley was almost too anxious to be proud of his work.

“Does that look okay?” He asked, avoiding her eyes.

Chell smiled. She’d had her fun making him squirm (that's what he got for making fun of her), but the last thing she wanted was to damage his self esteem further than it already was.

“It’s perfect.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

Her smile turned a tad more humble as she looked between Wheatley and the bright red tote that sat by her feet.

“...Would you mind adding one more thing?”

Wheatley brightened, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Sure. What have you got?”

The star was nothing fancy. Its edges were rough, the product of kiddie scissors on cardboard, and it left a thin trail of glitter every time it moved. Every year it was fastened to the tree by a piece of yarn duct taped to its back, which wasn't a problem, because only one side of the star was decorated, completely covered in the aforementioned glitter. The tree topper was makeshift, but it had been a collaborative effort on the part of the town’s children. To Chell it was perfect.

“This goes on the very top of the tree.” Chell said, handing it off reluctantly. “Be careful.”

Whether she was asking him not hurt himself or the star Wheatley didn’t know, though the delicate way she handed it to him gave him a rough idea.

Thankfully the star took a lot less time to arrange than the lights.

Wheatley couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride swell within his chest as he stepped back to look at the finished product, because it wasn’t just  _ a  _ tree, it was  _ their  _ tree. They had decorated it together, and they were going to celebrate Christmas together.

Next to him, Chell was feeling a little emotional too.

The fact that she got to celebrate something like Christmas reminded her of her freedom, and the value of it. Of her home, her friends, and family. How far she had come since moving to Horizon. Every Christmas seemed to be a kind of milestone, and this one was extra special, because it was Wheatley's first.

So Chell didn't understand why, all of a sudden, he looked unhappy.

“What's wrong?”

Wheatley scuffed at the carpet.

“Nothing's really  _ wrong _ , it's just that I don't-” He winced, looking up at her cautiously. “All of it just seems a little… silly… To me?” He gestured wildly as Chell frowned. “Not that anything that makes you this happy could ever be silly, because- I can tell, you know, that you’ve been quite a lot happier, lately. Not that you’re usually  _ un _ happy or unpleasant to be around! You’re not! I just-” Blue eyes looked helplessly at the Christmas tree. “I don’t understand… all of this. Does that make any sense? I mean, I know you don’t really like it, or at least it’s not your favorite thing, when I go on one of those, gee-you-humans-sure-are-strange tangents, but really,” Wheatley smirked halfheartedly, giving her a pointed look. “I spent most of the morning watching you and that Michael fellow try to squeeze a tree through the front door.”

“Yes.” Chell smirked. “With all the time you, Jake, and Ruth spent laughing at us when you could have  _ helped _ .”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Chell rolled her eyes, immediately knowing where he'd picked up that phrase.

Wheatley smiled at her, reluctant.

“You... usually don’t do things unless they’re practical.”

Chell nodded.

“Yes.”

“Right. So what is the functional purpose of having a tree in the living room?”

Chell smirked.

“There isn’t one.”

“Then why-” He scoffed. “What’s the point?”

Chell shrugged.

“What’s the point of anything?”

Wheatley blinked.

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to make me  _ less  _ confused?”

_ ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ _

__ Chell snickered.

__ “Come here.” She slid off the couch, and pulled Wheatley down with her. They sat side by side on the carpet, in front of the tote that had previously held the Christmas lights. Wheatley watched in mild confusion as Chell began to rummage through the box. “This is the best way I can explain what Christmas is about.”

Chell removed several clumps of paper from the tote that sat in front of them, carefully peeling back their wrappings to reveal candy colored glass. She hooked a twine string on her finger, and the two of them watched as the bulb dangled there, spinning in lazy pirouettes.

“Colored glass?” Wheatley tried.

“It’s an ornament.” Chell said softly, holding it up for him to see. “Isn’t it pretty?” He was obviously supposed to be looking at the ornament, but it was hard to focus when she was so close, the lights from the tree reflecting in her eyes like multicolored stars. “Part of the Christmas tradition is decorating the Christmas tree with them, like this.” Chell removed the string from her finger and instead secured it on one of the branches of the tree. She smiled, her voice turning warmer as she looked at the unveiled ornaments that sat at her feet. “But these ornaments are special, because every one of them was given to me during my first Christmas here in Horizon.”

Her gaze turned melancholy, almost bitterly so, as she looked up at him.

“You were lucky. You had me-- someone you knew-- who brought you to town, and took care of you, and gave you a place to live. When I got here I had nowhere to go, and I was constantly surrounded by total strangers.”

Wheatley swallowed.

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It wasn’t.” Chell said. “They were nice, though. Despite the fact that I wasn’t always so nice to them.” She shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “They helped me fix up this little old house, and by Christmas I was living in it. It was a lot… emptier back then. I hardly had any furniture, much less little things like Christmas decorations.” Her smile softened as she looked back at Wheatley. “I didn’t even know what Christmas was. I didn’t understand it.”

He smiled weakly. “It doesn't make too much sense.”

Chell nodded.

“Back then I saw it the way you do now.” She smirked softly as she unwrapped another ornament. “People were stuffing trees into their houses, and pelting each other with snow, and filling socks with candy. I thought they’d all lost their minds.”

Chell chuckled.

“After a few unsuccessful attempts at explaining the holiday to me, one of them took me door to door-- against my will-- and explained to each resident that my house was completely empty save for a couch and a bare tree. And when they heard that, every single one of them took an ornament off their own tree, and gave it to me.” She smiled at Wheatley. “By the end of the night the tree was full. And I finally understood.” Chell looked at the ornament cradled in her hands. “Christmas means different things to different people; to me it's about the spirit of giving. Which wasn't too hard to learn around here.” Her smiled turned softer as blue eyes met grey. “I know I seem very independent, and I try to be independent whenever I can. But everything I have was given to me by them. I owe everything to them.”

They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the light of the tree as the radio crooned from the kitchen.

“It was Michael, wasn’t it?” Wheatley asked.

“Hm?”

“The person who took you around town.”

Chell tried not to smirk.

“Maybe.”

Wheatley made a noise that was somewhere between a hum and a growl.

“That was very...decent of him.” Chell tried not to snicker as he mussed the carpet. “What about... everything else?”

“They took care of that too.”

_ ‘They.’ _

They really had given her everything.

“Thank you. For explaining.” Wheatley gave a lopsided smile. “I think I get it now.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Her eyes sparkled as she came closer. “Here.”

Wheatley blinked as she gave him the ornament she’d been holding.

“What’s this?”

He had never known her to be shy, but something timid swept over her.

“Your first gift.” She said softly. “I know it’s a little early, and I didn’t even wrap it-- I honestly just thought of it.” Blue glass winked up at watery blue eyes. “That one always made me think of you.”

“Oh, love…” Wheatley smiled helplessly, overcome with emotion. “Thank you, but I can't-- I can't just  _ take  _ this from you.”

Chell shook her head.

“I want you to have it.” Her smiled brightened as her fingers brushed his, preventing him from returning it. “Do you want to hang it on the tree?”

“Oh!” Wheatley beamed. “Of course! Do I just… uh?” He copied Chell’s previous actions, carefully hooking the ornament’s string around one of the tree branches. “Like this?”

They sat back and admired their work, orange and blue side by side.

“Perfect.”


End file.
